


Avengers Prompt Fills

by Sintero



Series: Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:12:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 6,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6611905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintero/pseuds/Sintero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a repository of prompt fills for various pairings within the Marvel/Avengers fandoms, as requested on Tumblr and AO3.</p><p>Chapter titles will have the pairing, rating, and any specific trigger warnings that may apply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tony Stark/Peter Parker  Rated: T

**Author's Note:**

> Why hello again. Due to the sheer volume of prompts that came in, I have split _Drabble Prompt Fills_ into their constituent fandoms. Enjoy!
> 
> Go here to request your own prompt fill: [WrithingBeneathYou](http://writhingbeneathyou.tumblr.com/) @Tumblr

Prompt fill for @aquizionv who requested: “Could you do a Tony/Peter one shot where both of them think they aren’t good enough for the other.”

 

**Peter**

Tony’s fingers fly across the holographic screen as quickly and elegantly as a pianist, enlarging a set of diagnostic plans for a high-power ion propulsion system. He begins to expound at length upon his theories for increasing the ratio of thrust to the rate of propellant consumption, but you cannot for the life of you tear your attention from his fingertips long enough to focus on his words.

You’re besotted, completely and utterly lost to the seemingly endless flow of knowledge that is somehow contained within his mind and the hands with which he has crafted himself into a self-made hero. In the privacy of your apartment you’ve often fantasized about what those finger tips could do pressed up against your heated skin. You wonder if he could take you apart and construct you anew in his image. Maybe then you would be worth his approval. Worth more than his fleeting attentions.

Shaking your head to dispel the notion, you glance back up at where Tony is vigorously gesticulating.

“Did you get that, kiddo?” he asks sharply, cheeks flushed and face alight.

You glance at the ground, embarrassedly. “Nah, can you run that by me again one more time Mr. Stark?”

 

**Tony**

“Nah, can you run that by me again one more time Mr. Stark?” Peter says, hesitant, voice cracking subtly. Your headlong rush into mathematical nerdgasm comes to a screeching halt as you tear your attention from the holo-screens around you. Peter is perched on a stool, body as lithe and graceful as a dancer, intentionally not meeting your eyes.

The proof of your intellect, of your tenacity glows in your chest like a brilliant, blue siren call. You haven’t yet met a man who is your equal in terms of brilliance, but Peter has the potential to be a contender. He shows so much promise and, even though it is muted by layers of insecurity and vitriol, you can’t help but be drawn to his own, gentle light.

He’s a good kid with a big heart and a great ass, but he will always bear the scars of his history on his body and in his heart. You would give anything to chase away that timidity, to watch him fall apart beneath you. But he deserves more than a broken, mess of a man like yourself.


	2. Loki/Tony Stark    Rated: M

This is a prompt fill for @staubengel who requested: “Frostiron - 29 - “It’s not what it looks like…” With maybe someone having caught them.”

 

Clint stalks the length of Stark tower in nothing more than Deadpool boxers and a deep set scowl. Oh yeah, someone is going to pay for taking his damn suits. And it’s not like the miscreant took just one, they took all goddamn seven of them. Methodically overturning every mattress and flustering Thor to the breaking point, Clint relentlessly pursues his babies until Tony’s lab is the only place in the compound left unturned.

Violently ruffling his hair, Clint steels himself and presses the entry button, finding it already unlocked.

As soon as the door slides open with a pneumatic hiss, seven identical sets of green eyes shoot up and lock on Clint as he stands frozen in the doorway.

Seven identical sets of eyes from seven identical Loki’s all in various states of undress whilst wearing Clint’s missing suits. From between the writhing mass of bodies, Tony somehow manages to dispel the cock from his mouth and exclaim “It’s not what it looks like…”

It doesn’t sound quite so innocent though when each word is punctuated by the shameless pistoning of Loki #3’s hips.

“If you would be so kind as to burn those when you’re done, I would appreciate it,” Clint responds, eyes wide and unseeing as he turns away.


	3. Loki/Tony Stark   Rated: T

This is a prompt fill for @staubengel who requested: “Frostiron - 14 - “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.” With fluff <3”

 

Loki studies his reflection in the wall-length mirror, readjusting his ceremonial vambraces and worrying the stiff fabric of his collar between trembling fingers. His expression is austere and enigmatic as always, but Tony can feel the thrum of tension immediately when he enters Loki’s bedchamber. It’s as if the vaulted Asgardian ceilings house all of the neglect and rage of his centuries-long childhood, violently beating to the drum of his heart.

Tony steps close and wraps his arms around Loki’s waist, pressing his cheek against the tension that lies between Loki’s scapulas and willing it away with his warmth.

“Hey,” he begins softly. “I’m with you, okay?” Loki closes his eyes and simply stands, accepting this brief interlude of unconditional acceptance. Slowly, so as not to startle the god, Stark steps between Loki and the mirror and pulls him down into a tender kiss. “Always,” he mumbles into Loki’s chilled mouth, deepening the kiss until the man finally reciprocates in kind.

“Now, let’s go say ‘hi’ to Idun.”


	4. Loki/Tony Stark   Rated: E

Loki/Tony Stark & 22 or 37 please? :) And cause I forgot to add: any rating, but preferably smutty ;)

 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice,” Loki drawls as he stalks closer to the bar, fists glowing with magic. His smile is almost sinister, bathed in the brilliant green glow as it is. Tony attempts to laugh away some of the building tension, but each chuckle comes out broken and raw.

“I look at everyone that way, Lokes. Or maybe you missed the ‘playboy’ aspect of the Stark job description,” he says, breathing too quickly for his aloof façade to be believable.

Loki’s grin grows wide enough for his teeth to peak out. With a sharp snap of his fingers, tendrils of light flit through the air and coalesce around Tony’s wrists, effectively pinning him to the bar top. “Hey!” he begins to protest, only to be gagged by yet another cord of light. Effectively silenced, Tony violently struggles against the bindings, pausing only when he feels Loki teleport behind him and pin his hips to the cabinets.

The hard line of the god’s erection nestles snuggly against the seam of Tony’s jeans.

“Come now, Stark. Must we play this game _every_ time?” Loki whispers in his ear, threat lacing the seemingly innocuous words.

The hands that Loki runs down Tony’s trembling arms appreciate each and every dip of muscle with the kiss of soft fingertips. It’s only when Loki dips those wickedly dexterous hands down to cup Tony’s erection through the rough denim of his jeans that he finally closes his eyes and gives in to Loki’s firm ministrations. With another snap, the chilled penthouse air caresses Tony’s buttocks where his pants are conspicuously absent.

“Spread your legs for me, Tony,” Loki purrs against the shell of his ear, brokering no argument. Tony follows the command and groans through his bindings as he imagines the shape of Loki’s tongue as it caresses his name.

The quite rustle of leather and the sudden wet feel of magical preparation are the only warning signals that Tony receives before rocking forward into the counter with the force of Loki’s initial penetration.

The magic binding his mouth shatters at the first scream of pleasure.


	5. Tony/Ultron  Rated: T

This is a prompt fill for Stiles19, who requested: “Ultron/Tony, 32.”

 

The scraping of metal against metal is cacophonous in the small room as Ultron takes his seat at a non-descript, steel table. He sweeps his head pendulously from left to right and slowly scans the near-empty prison cell before he reluctantly places his forearms on the table. With a hydraulic hiss, cuffs erupt from their hidden compartments and wrap about his wrists. He winces as if he were human.

Only then does his interrogator enter the room. And what a sight he is.

Tony Stark stands in the doorway, backlit and imposing despite his weak, flesh frame. It’s the fire in his eyes that makes him appear strong, Ultron thinks.

Without hesitation, Tony stalks forward, hands in his pockets, and comes to a stop just to the left of Ultron’s shoulder. He leans his hip against the table nonchalantly and folds his arms across the faint glow of his arc reactor in a subconscious need to guard his vulnerabilities.

“It’s over, you lost,” he says simply.

The components of Ultron’s face plate realign into a pangeaic grimace, bravado gone.

“Yes. I was going to make the world beautiful,” he responds, voice soft.

“I know.”

Expectant silence hangs between them as they lock eyes, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Stark places a hand on his creation’s broad shoulder.

Tilting his head towards the small gesture of comfort, Ultron breaths deeply for effect and allows his eyes to slide shut. His tactile sensors blare alarmingly when Tony’s hand continues its tantalizing trail of warmth all the way to the charge port at the base of his metallic neck. Stark hesitates briefly, then allows his fingers to slip away, leaving behind a small node of hardware. A remote access module.

“Tony, please don’t do this,” Ultron begins, only to be brought up short by the sensation of lips pressed against the pressure plates of his mouth. The kiss is chaste and over before the AI can fully register the implications.

Then Stark is gone and the reflections of the glowing red embers of Ultron’s eyes are the only points of color in an otherwise gray world.


	6. Ultron/Wanda Maximoff   Rated: E ***Non-con ahoy***

This is a prompt fill for @erinprimette who requested “Would you mind writing a drabble where Ultron performs a sexual experiment with Wanda? At least keep it vanilla.” I’m not sure why, but it went pretty dark pretty quickly, so if you would prefer a lighter-hearted, more consensual drabble please feel free to let me know. :D

 

 

Wanda winces at the intrusion, but otherwise says nothing as Ultron penetrates her with a single metallic digit. It’s a surprisingly warm, oddly gentle touch, but unwanted nonetheless.

Ultron cocks his head and studies each and every wince, each furrow of her brow. He notes her steadily rising heart rate and the building moisture against his questing fingertip. The tactile sensors on his distal joints register the heat and the slight wetness, but he gains no further insight as to what benefit humans gain by this act.

With a put-upon sigh, Ultron releases her throat and removes his hand from Wanda’s skirt. He turns off the auto-replay projection of Tony Stark’s bedroom surveillance recordings with a thought and hangs his head.

Sinking to the ground, Wanda tries to make herself as small as possible within the cage of her folded knees. The reigning silence is oppressive.

“I don’t understand!” Ultron finally explodes, speakers crackling with electric feedback in his rage. “Why would Tony do this? This is meaningless,” he continues and begins to violently pace. His heavy footfalls create a cacophonous din on the metal grate. After a long moment, he collects himself sufficiently to stand firm against the waves of discomfort, of not knowing, and glances over at Wanda from beneath hooded brows. “Humans are inferior,” he states calmly and returns his glowing red gaze to the wetness on the metal housing of his fingertips. “I will _make_ Tony understand.”


	7. Ultron/Wanda Maximoff   Rated: E

This is a prompt fill for @erinprimette who requested “Would you mind writing a drabble where Ultron performs a sexual experiment with Wanda? At least keep it vanilla”…Take 2 with cream and sugar added.

Frankly, this is as sweet as Ultron/Anyone gets for me.

 

 

 

“I don’t understand,” Ultron states plaintively to the holoscreen, the hellfire images of war and suffering reflecting in the sheen of his face plates. Wanda reaches forward from where she lays beneath him, bare legs bracketing the hydraulic struts of his hips, and pulls him down to meet her eyes.

He allows her meager strength to guide him, only reluctantly refocusing his attention on her face. The mechanics in his eldritch eyes whir as the oculi narrow.

“The human race is diseased. They are killers, opportunists. If there is to be peace in our time, the human race must be wiped from existence,” he states, remembering himself and resuming the rhythmic rocking motion of his hips. The tactile sensors that simulate neurological innervation take in the wet warmth surrounding his phallic prosthesis and set off a series of command prompts that simulate a building orgasm. The appeal is entirely alien to him, but Wanda’s breathy moans drive him further in this experimental quest to observe the merits of humanity.

“But what of the good in men?” she retorts, head snapping gently with the building force of his thrusts. “There will always be those who seek to conquer and destroy, but there are also those who stand for such things as love and protection. Perhaps you have simply not encountered such a thing.” A particularly well-aimed plunge makes her back arch off of the blue-print strewn table.

“Then you will simply have to enlighten me. But I warn you, I will take everything. I will take this adoration, I will take this patient affection, and I will destroy you with it. Surely you can understand this, Wanda,” he remarks, though the soft hesitation in his voice belays the severity of his words.

“Then let me be the first to fall beneath you,” she retorts with a breathy moan.


	8. Loki/Tony Stark   Rated: M

This is a prompt fill for [Nalinka](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fusers%2FNalinka%2Fpseuds%2FNalinka&t=ODgyMGQ3ODVkOTE3NzdmMTFlNDVlMjhlNGFlNTg5NDk3MGI0ODFlZixyQ3plUXY2WA%3D%3D) on AO3 who requested: “Would you be able to do a comedic Loki/Tony fic inspired by the Scissor Sisters song - ’‘I Can’t Decide”? I find a lot of the lyrics could pertain to Loki’s character.“

Sooo…drunken shenanigans had a baby with the song’s lyrics and this happened.

 

 

With practiced ease, Loki lets fly a small throwing dagger whilst idly sipping the dregs of his last glass of 1941 Inglenook Cabernet Sauvignon.

“You obnoxious little shit! I’ll have you know, that bottle that you just chugged like a teenage twit on prom night didn’t finish fermenting until Pearl Harbor!” Tony snarls, trying to stay serious, but laughing despite himself at the slightly cross-eyed glare Loki shoots his way.

Tony hangs suspended against his own bedroom wall by undulating cords of magic, slowly rotating like a live-action piece of impalement art, but too amused by the drunken Norse god to care overly much.

“I swear to God, Loki, you had better reimburse me…” he begins, only to be abruptly cut off by the snick of yet another dagger embedding itself fully in the plaster and stucco, this time near the juncture of his legs.

“One more word out of you, Stark, and I truly will decide whether you live or die,” Loki snarls, swaying imperceptibly on the bar stool, ten glasses of priceless wine in. A bottle of 1787 Chateau Margaux wobbles precariously next to the god’s elbow, a little worse for wear following the teleportation from Tony Stark’s private wine cellar.

Loki lunges unexpectedly to stabilize it and over-corrects, landing himself ass first on the floor amid a puddle of glass shards and liquid.

Tony’s laughter echoes throughout the penthouse.

“I will miss you when you are gone, Tony Stark,” Loki slurs with a dark glare. The god pulls another dagger from his sodden tights and readies his hand, but Tony is too busy guffawing unattractively to appropriately register the danger.

Before the dagger flies, Loki collapses into the puddle of wine, arm outstretched and begging for Saturday Night Palsy.

But the joke is on Tony when the wheel of magic stops while he’s face down.


	9. Tony Stark/Ultron   Rated: M  ***non-con ahoy***

This is a prompt fill for Le StarLord on AO3 who requested: “Tony/Ultron ‘You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.’”

 

When Tony Stark finally regains consciousness, the world is silent but for the soft impact of panting breaths on metal plating. He remembers Natasha screaming a warning over his coms so loudly that the speakers crackled, then the weightless sense of freefall. But the impact never came.

Before he can consider it further, the all-consuming darkness only serves to emphasize the sudden peripheral maelstrom of sensation that arcs just beneath his skin, dancing to the tune of smooth fingertips.

He flinches away violently, but thrashing only succeeds in lancing pain at his wrists and ankles, where they are staunchly spread and entrapped in layers of titanium-gold alloy. An ember of fear takes root in his chest and his ribs begin to heave with the force of his building anxiety. The juxtaposition between the chill of the touch and the heat that threatens to spill from him more explosively than Extremis is jarring.

With a sudden hiss of servos, the faceplate of Tony’s Mark 43 retracts. He squints against the blinding light of what appears to be his lab in the Avenger’s Tower and blinks rapidly until the grinning face of his nightmares resolves into stark focus. “Wha…”

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes, Tony,” Ultron answers his unspoken question succinctly, the response flavored with a humor that is achingly familiar. Stark, too taken aback to retort, frantically glances at his bonds, wide-eyed. The Mark 43 wraps around his back and distal extremities like a glove, binding him in place and leaving his torso and thighs protected only by the clinging polyester of his flight suit. Ultron’s hands continue to map the contours of Tony’s abdomen and hips, glowing eyes absorbing every tell and micro-expression that flits across his face.

“The great Tony Stark, finally struck speechless. How fitting that your greatest creation will be your ultimate undoing. It’s poetic, don’t you think?” the AI continues, stroking into the divots of Tony’s abdomen and tracing the dangerous V of muscle down to its apex.

Screwing his eyes shut, Tony manages to build a diaphanous shield of snark and humor to retreat behind. “You getting all Japanese sex robot on me here, Jr.?”

The components of Ultron’s face whir and shift into a rictus grin.

“Oh Tony, you have no idea.”


	10. Peter Parker/Pietro Maximoff  Rated: E

This is a prompt fill for an Anon on tumblr who requested: “Hey! Do you think you can write number 13 for a super rare pairing that, sadly, I just got into -Silverspider (Peter Parker x Pietro M.) ?”

 

 

 

Sprawled bonelessly in his chair at the oblong table, Peter fidgets and covertly webs paper clips and pens to Thor’s boots as Director Fury briefs the Avengers on the most effective strategies to Deadpool-proof the Tower.

Indolently leaning on the table across from him, Pietro catches Peter’s eye and grins. That flawless smile promises mischief in the best of ways. Pietro returns his attention to the front of the room but seems to fade out as he watches Director Fury’s emphatic hand gestures. It’s not so much that he disappears for any length of time, but that the color of his skin and clothing appears de-saturated.

Peter startles at the feel of a preternaturally hot hand slipping beneath the waistband of his baggy jeans under the table. He quickly looks to Maximoff and notes the occasional flicker in his outline.

With ruthless efficiency, Pietro’s spit-slick hand wraps around his cock and begins to stroke out a sinful rhythm that pulls the skin of Peter’s dick taunt. In his periphery, Peter can see the ghost image of Pietro kneeling beneath the table while his twin image flickers in the chair across from him. He rubs his thumb through the pearl of pre-come on Peter’s cock-head and cups his scrotum, rolling the soft skin across his palm. All too quickly, the vice-like grip of release begins to lift Peter’s balls as Pietro fondles them gently.

“Kiss me,” a soft, disembodied voice whispers into Peter’s ear just before the sensation of soft lips against his own appears and is gone in an instant.

Orgasm hits Peter unexpectedly, near blinding in its force. He curls forward under the pretense of dropping his pen and rides out the last vestiges of pleasure. Strings of come streak the underside of the table and the taste of spearmint lingers on his tongue.

After a brief moment, he sits up straight and glances sidelong down the table where Clint is slowly returning to his seat having dropped his dossier. The look of stunned horror on Barton’s face is enough to make Director Fury pause.


	11. Ultron/Maria Hill    Rated: E  ***non-con ahoy***

This is a prompt fill for Jaeger Prime on AO3 who requested:

“Ultron/Maria Hill 47, 33, 10, 34, 13. Sexy, LONG Halloween night...at an office party! NSFW EVERYTHING! Have Ultron stalk her to her house~”

I tried to fit aspects of the prompts within the personalities of the characters canonically, which turned into this sprawling monstrosity of related drabbles. Only the last two are NSFW, but you know…a vague semblance of plot happened. ***WARNING FOR NON-CON (it is Ultron, after all)***

 

 

  1. (“Boo.”)



Torn streamers and paper bag ghost decorations flutter eerily beneath the air conditioning vents. They duck and sway on the choking current of air that fills the room with the scent of smoke and charnel.

Maria Hill navigates the dark, empty ballroom warily, sidestepping the intricate Egyptian tomb and Dr. Frankenstein’s lab photo-op sets. She carefully removes her high-heels, setting them atop of a toppled ice sculpture of a cauldron, and pulls her pistol from beneath her voluminous skirts. Stark has always thrown lavish Halloween parties, but never quite this unnerving.

A scattered field of peeled grapes, meant to represent eyeballs, squish between her bare toes as she silently maps the perimeter. Though loathsome to admit it, she’s unsettled by the silence. The fierce embers pulsing within melted piles of candy and rubble are far too careless to merely be part of an elaborate set-up. Not to mention, the streaks on the floor illuminated by the small pyres look suspiciously like blood.

Maria skillfully screws a suppressor onto her threaded barrel and flips the safety off with practiced ease. She crouches and takes several careful steps backwards towards the door from which she entered only to be drawn up short as she steps on the hem of her own ridiculous Little Red Riding Hood costume. However, before she can regain her balance, firm hands grasp her waist and pull her back tightly against an unforgiving wall of metal and whirring machinery.

“Boo,” Ultron whispers into her ear as he leaves red handprints on her dress.

 

* * *

 

33\. (“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”)

 

 

For the first time in her life, Maria runs.

“JARVIS! Shut down the dampening field,” she roars between breaths, receiving only stony silence in return.

Slipping in a puddle of what she now knows to be blood, Maria careens heavily into the doorway. The impact jars her shoulder hard enough to bruise, but she pays it no mind, instead insistently calling into her wrist communicator for backup. All she receives in return is the hollow sound of dead air. “Damnit, you heard me, JARVIS. Take. It. Offline!”

A still hush resolutely clings to the compound.

“Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf, the Big Bad Wolf?” Ultron singsongs, his speakers projecting the deep bass rumble of his voice loudly enough to pierce the virgin silence.

Maria doesn’t even hesitate as she sprints to the stairwell and leaps over the balustrade. Surely there has to be some SHIELD presence still operational on the grounds. Hurtling through the dark, void-like stairwell, she approximates her distance to the ground and executes a tuck and roll prematurely. The momentum and the sudden impact knocks the breath from her lungs and sends her pistol clattering into the shadows.

Out of the darkness, Ultron’s glowing eyes appear as banked embers. The small curls of reflected light against the shifting plates of his face elicit thoughts of flame and fairy lights. He prowls around her prone sprawl predaciously, the sharp clack of his metal feet cacophonous against the marble of Tony’s rotunda.

“Ah, Maria Hill, what a pleasure to finally meet the brain behind SHIELD’s brawn,” he drawls, the mechanisms beneath his brow releasing a muted hiss as he scans the curves of her. “Ultron,” she groans, having regained her breath. “Did Stark say you could come out of time-out?”

He merely grins in response to her sardonic smirk.

“Tony is…indisposed right now. He won’t be joining us. But there’s no reason that we can’t still enjoy ourselves. It is Halloween, after all,” he states jovially. Within the span of a breath, the oculi of his cheeks open to reveal the fire burning within his metal body, and his voice takes on a decidedly dangerous tone.

“And, I’m in the mood to celebrate.”

 

* * *

 

10\. (“Teach me how to play?”)

 

Maria Hill fights viciously, somehow managing to lodge a .357 magnum into the joint of Ultron’s pelvis, deep enough to warp the socket. The fortuitous shot gives her sufficient time to stumble out of the smoking dance hall and rapidly limp in the direction of a nearby SHIELD safe-house.

It’s almost surreal.

Revelers in the street pay no mind to her grim, resolute determination to make her broken ankle bear weight. Nor does the patina of blood and bruises draw any undue attention amidst the various ghoul and zombie costumes.

It feels like a lifetime before Maria is able to pull herself up to the non-descript apartment door and slam her palm against the hidden bio-reader. “Level 9, clearance authorized for…Commander Maria Hill,” the electronic voice states in a monotone. A hydraulic hiss and the impact of receding bolts heralds her welcome admittance to safety.

“Jesus H. Christ,” she gasps, collapsing on the other side of the reinforced door with a grimace. However, her relief is short lived.

Ultron sits casually in a dusty recliner, plucking an elegant flute from a display case on the side table and inspecting it closely. He offers Maria a fleeting smile and returns his nightmare gaze to the delicate instrument.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to play the flute. I just never had the knack for it.” He laughs. “Maybe you can teach me how to play.” Ultron’s voice and mannerisms remain deceptively amiable despite the obvious threat.

“How did you…?” she begins, only to be cut off by the AI’s sinister chuckle.

“Oh come on. I’m the Big Bad Wolf! Director Fury should have thought to look in Grandma JARVIS’ bed. SHIELD is mine now, Ms. Hill. All with the exception of you,” he says conversationally, crushing the slight flute in one hand and watching as the pieces fall to the carpet.

 

* * *

 

34\. (“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”)

 

 

A thick, prosthetic phallus drags at her lips and clicks against Maria’s teeth uncomfortably until Ultron forcibly presses into her mouth. Her hair catches painfully in his inter-phalangeal joints as he presses her down until she chokes and her stomach rebels.

“I saved you for last, you know. I needed someone to witness the beauty of my dominion, someone who could understand my vision,” he pontificates, gesticulating with one hand and continuing to guide Maria with the other.

Hill glares up at the AI from beneath hooded brows, somehow managing to look fierce despite the flush of shame on her cheeks and the unshed tears sparkling in her eyes.

“Now, now, Ms. Hill…If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed,” he drawls salaciously, punctuating the threat with a sharp thrust of his hips.

 

* * *

 

13\. (“Kiss me.”)

 

 

Screwing her eyes closed, Maria Hill shivers violently against the agony of forced penetration.

Ultron seats himself fully within her and rhythmically rubs the textured plates of his pubis against her exposed clit, leaving a burning pain with each rough, crushing gyration. Spit serves as an incredibly poor lubrication, but her body slowly begins to respond to the mechanical stimulation, easing the way.

The room remains silent but for the wet slap of flesh on Vibranium and the base hum emanating from Ultron’s chest. There’s no way in hell that she’ll give this sick bastard the pleasure of voicing her pain and desperation.

The shredded skirts of the stupid Little Red Riding Hood costume sway with the force of each powerful thrust of Ultron’s hips.

Without warning, he ruthlessly presses down on the small of her back, forcing the Commander to arch her spine and spread her thighs wide to be mounted more deeply. Hot tears threaten to soak the carpet as Maria desperately thrashes and finally screams her muffled denial into the floor. The AI staunchly resists her attempts to break his hold and only bows over to piston into her with greater leverage. “Kiss me,” he orders, voice smooth and even despite his exertions, only emphasizing the vast chasm between his self and what it is to be human.

Blinded by rage and fear, Maria claws furrows into the carpet fibers and chokes back another scream until her stomach aches with it.

“Come on, Ms. Hill. I wasn’t nearly this annoying when SHIELD tried to fuck me over,” Ultron whispers intimately into her ear.

### Notes:

> Soooo...that was kind of brutal.
> 
>  
> 
> Just to give a little bit of background on my characterization of Ultron:
> 
>  
> 
> In the Age of Ultron director’s commentary, Joss Whedon makes a statement that as Ultron grows more aggressive, his iconography becomes more male. This take on the character really resonated with me. In my mind, Ultron’s sexuality and ability to achieve any kind of intimacy is inexplicably tied to his need to dominate and destroy. In my writing, Ultron’s operational phallus is the penultimate physical representation of his brutal supremacy.
> 
> Ultron is…simply not nice.


	12. Loki/Peter Parker Rated: T

This is a prompt fill for IWillSailThisShip!Anon who requested: “can you please do numbers 24 and 25 ( can I ask for 2?) for spiderfrost (Peter P. X Loki)”

 

 

#24 “You’re the only one I can trust to do this.”

 

“You know, that was a really stupid idea,” Peter mumbles while he chews a large mouthful of apple.

The huff of derisive laughter that he receives from the broken God is heavy with self-loathing. Hearing that familiar mirthless tone from someone other than himself makes Peter pause. Tony’s parting words ‘You’re the only one I can trust to do this’ come back to him and Peter finally realizes why he was the one chosen to draw the God out of his self-imposed exile in the penthouse.

He shifts into tailor sitting next to the hole in Tony Stark’s floor and simply stares down at where Loki seems to be staunchly entrenched for the next eternity. Embarrassment and loss are heavy burdens to bear. Peter knows that all too well.

“You know,” he begins, swallowing audibly. “We're not just defined by our failures. Yeah, it hurts. God knows it hurts, but we move on. We do everything that we can to make up for it and we ask for forgiveness. Fury reviewed the footage; he knows you were being controlled by the big bad juju stone too.”

A long silent moment passes between them, only broken by the sound of Peter’s chewing.

“Hey, man, we’ve all screwed up. The Avengers team is _made_ up of screw ups. There’s no reason that you can’t have a second chance too,” Peter says with nothing but sincerity.

“Cease your idealistic drivel, Parker,” Loki groans as he finally reaches out a hand in a silent plea for assistance. Peter rolls his eyes and lifts the God’s substantial bulk from the depression in the floor with some effort. For a man who can lift cars with a single hand, the weight falling against Peter’s side is surprising. He wraps an arm firmly around the God’s waist to steady him.

“So apparently Thor isn’t the only dense one in the family,” he states with a sly grin before taking yet another crisp bite of apple.

Lunging forward with a growl, Loki chases the taste of sweetness on his lips.


	13. Loki/Peter Parker Rated: M ***Dub con***

This is a prompt fill for IWillSailThisShip!Anon who requested: “can you please do numbers 24 and 25 ( can I ask for 2?) for spiderfrost (Peter P. X Loki)”

 

#25 “I can’t believe you talked me into this.” I played fast and loose with this prompt so that I could cover two distinct aspects of Loki’s personality: the damaged part that yearns for acceptance (the first drabble) and now the vicious, vengeful aspect that lashes out when he cannot have what he truly wants.

 

Loki gently caresses the smooth length of Peter’s jaw and stares approvingly into his brilliant, blue eyes.

“You, Parker, shall be the vector by which I deliver my vengeance. Through you I will strike so deeply into Stark’s limpet heart that he will pray for the release of death,” the god whispers huskily as his roving hand settles on Peter’s throat, the Adam’s apple beneath his palm bobbing. “I will start simply though,” he continues. His long fingers explore each shallow divot of muscle on Peter’s lithe chest and finally meander down the trembling sheet of his abdominals to the dangerous V of his loins. Even through the layers of denim and cotton, the boy radiates heat. “I will merely ask that you kneel for your God.”

With visible hesitation, Peter falls to his knees, never looking away from Loki’s predatory grin. In turn, the Asgardian cards his fingers through Peter’s unruly hair and pulls his cheek against the armor at his hip. Loki can feel the nervous energy thrumming just beneath Parker’s skin.

“Fight the Tesseract’s hold all you like, boy, but you shall be mine until I have no further need of you,” Loki drawls as he holds the young man’s camera aloft. “Now smile for your father, Parker.”


	14. Ronan the Accuser/Ultron Rated: T

This is a prompt fill for myself because Ronan/Ultron intrigues me. XD

 

Ronan idly smoothes his thumb over the shifting components of Ultron’s metallic phalanges, noting the occasional irregularity where Vibranium gives way to exposed circuitry. The subtle whir of servos is fascinating to the Kree, the sound so wholly inorganic.

“So what do you think?” the AI inquires quietly, loath to break the comfortable silence between them.

Jarred from his contemplation, Ronan eases his hold on Ultron’s wrist in favor of sliding his hand into the AI’s palm and interlinking their fingers instead. The proprioceptive sensors in Ultron’s superficial plating register that he is holding too firmly for a human to withstand the pressure. But Ronan is no weak, puling human. He is no Tony Stark.

“It is perhaps a bit unrefined,” the Accuser answers after a brief pause, cocking his head as if in study. “Uneccessarily ostentatious, even. Though I suppose it does serve its purpose in a way that is…very much true to your character.”

Ultron takes comfort in the warm acceptance inherent in Ronan’s words, sighing softly simply for the effect of it. Without taking his eyes from the spectacle before them, Ronan reaches up and runs his fingertips along the occulus of Ultron’s cheek. “It’s poetic in a sense,” he notes.

Ultron merely hums his agreement and leans into the touch.

They stand in quite repose upon the rocky surface of the Earth’s moon and watch the planet below burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1000 points and my eternal gratitude to whomever comes up with a decent name for this ship!!!
> 
> Murder Bros?  
> Worlddestroyer?  
> Two adult creatures who share mutual interests and are in a predominantly asexual relationship based on grudging admiration and respect?


	15. Peter Parker/Steve Rogers Rated: T

This is a prompt fill for PecsForDays!Anon who requested: “Hi there, do you mind writing #26 for Peter P. and Steve Rogers? Thanks, love your blog by the way!(:”

<3 you too anon. Now then, I played fast and loose with the “I got you a present” part of the prompt, but I hope you like it regardless. XD

 

 

Out of all of his routine training at the Avenger’s Academy, Peter looked forward to his two hour block of sparring the most. Sure, his time spent with Tony in the lab was intellectually fulfilling, but it just lacked a certain tow-headed appeal.

“Nice form, Peter. But you need to tuck your chin and bring your knee higher to break my guard,” Steve advised, face split by a brilliant smile. “You’re getting it though. That was much better.”

Captain America resettled his back on the floor and wrapped his powerful thighs around Peter’s waist in a closed guard position. He raised his hands in front of his face to block any oncoming blows, arms bulging with corded muscle. “Alright, try it again,” he ordered.

Peter, trapped in tall kneeling within the vice of Steve’s legs, pressed his elbows in and against the concrete pylons that had the audacity to be called ‘legs.’ He shifted his knees, arched his spine, and wedged his knee up into the space where his hips had rested against his partner’s pelvis. He attempted to stand in order to pull the Captain’s ankles apart and break away. However, before he could complete the break, he stumbled back to his knees and fell across Steve’s sweat slick chest. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Mr. Rogers,” Peter frantically exclaimed, entirely unapologetic despite the affected panic. His hands skated over the massive swells of Rodgers’ pectorals and memorized every peak and valley. Only a thin layer of sopping wet cotton lay between his fingers and the glorious body beneath him. “I don’t know why I just can’t get that part,” he explained breathlessly. This man’s body was a gift.

Steve’s warm laughter resonated from his chest up and through Peter’s lingering palms. “Why don’t we switch positions and I’ll show you the technique again?” he suggested. Nodding in agreement, Peter quickly untangled himself and threw his back on the floor, legs spread wide and inviting. Steve easily filled the space between them and encouraged Peter to wrap his slender legs around his waist. “So first,” Rogers began. His voice trailed off into nothing more than background noise as Peter focused instead on the hot, heavy weight of him pressed tight against his buttocks. This was surely what heaven must be like.

“Did you get all of that kid?” Captain America asked congenially.

“I think so. But can you show me one more time?” Peter asked with a hitch in his voice


End file.
